The Dead Rogue

by L B Wyatt

  Veronica’s conversations with Parker thereafter were lengthy and strictly through phones of various businesses and burner cells—just like Arc had taught them. Parker reminded Veronica a lot of herself at that age: bright, youthful and eager. A deadly combination when working for an agency like Arc’s. It was more like a death wish. That drive to prove oneself to an emotionless, faceless entity like Arc was just asking for a bullet in the chest, straight through the heart.

  Anger rippled through her at the entire situation. She had learned rather quickly that Parker was growing tired of the mysteries and lies as well.

  “You’re really out? You really walked away?” Parker had asked her once and Veronica remembered how the girl’s voice had sounded so in awe of this notion.

  “Yes,” Veronica had confirmed. “It won’t be easy, but I can help you do the same,” she had promised.

  Veronica felt the shame wash over her just as thick and heavy as it had the night she shared this conversation with Parker.

  “Have you ever regretted it?” Parker had whispered. “Leaving the business?”

  “No.” But Veronica had been lying. To the Rogue and to herself.

  “Do you think you’ll bust Manny soon? I don’t want to abandon this mission.” And by Manny, she meant the drug lord she had been attached to. Even on the brink of leaving, Parker didn’t want to leave a job unfinished and Veronica respected her for that.

  “I think so. What are you doing around him anyway? Arc doesn’t usually go for the low-level thugs.”

  “Oh, it’s not him I’m after. It’s his mother,” Parker had informed casually. “She’s international with some pretty heavy illegal trades.”

  “Ah.” Veronica remembered being impressed with Parker’s handle on the situation and the matter-of-fact attitude. Although, looking back, that was how Arc had taught all his Rogue’s to behave under dangerous circumstances. She remembered giving Parker instructions about the raid the police department was planning and how to avoid being there. They had traded useful information but then there was some hesitation on Parker’s end before the call could be disconnected. So much hesitation that Veronica felt convicted to press the matter.

  “If you don’t want to do this, I’ll understand.” Veronica could recall how she’d forced the words from her mouth. Being so close to getting something she’d been after for so long had made it difficult to be compassionate or understanding of the girl’s uncertainty.

  “It’s not the job. I can handle that. I was just wondering…” Parker had wavered for so long, Veronica wondered if she was going to finish her sentence or just leave it at that.

  “I was just wondering how far you’ve let yourself go on a mission?” she finally questioned.

  Veronica didn’t need any emphasis on what the young Rogue meant. Being undercover and on the arm of a drug hustler meant subjecting one’s self to a harsh environment full of difficult choices. Did you sleep with the enemy to make yourself look legit? Did you put that needle in your arm if presented with the options of using or blowing your cover? It was all very risky business.

  “Pretty far,” Veronica had replied. “But never past the point of rescue.”

  Veronica remembered the silence on the other end of the line. She remembered thinking how disturbing it had been. How she could almost feel through the phone line the emotions Parker had been feeling at the time. Guilt, shame, disgust.

  “Did something happen, Parker? Something you need to tell me?” And by tell her, Veronica meant talk about. Even if she couldn’t force those exact therapeutic words from her mouth.

  Parker had lied and Veronica had allowed it. Because Veronica wanted the information Parker could obtain more than she wanted peace for the young girl.

  It had become obvious Parker wanted a life without having to look over her shoulder all the time, a life of safety, away from the monsters. And Veronica had leapt at the opportunity when she saw it. She had promised Parker a way out, away from Arc and his control. But when she thought back on it, how could she have ever gotten Parker out from under Arc’s thumb when she herself was still planted firmly under it?

  Besides, Veronica was pretty sure it wasn’t Arc’s fault this girl was dead. It was strictly Veronica’s. And with that, she pulled herself up out of the gutter memory lane had thrown her into and turned her eyes to the other photos. There was one of Parker’s body on the pavement, face down and shot to death. The crime scene photos held very little evidence as to what actually happened.

  And there was definitely something missing, Veronica knew.

  With that thought, her eyes were drawn downward. At the bottom of the wardrobe was a cardboard box full of files. She bent to sift through them, eager to know everything the feds had collected when something else caught her eye. When she pushed the files back to skim through them, the box moved back revealing something beneath it. It wasn’t the paper necessarily that snagged her attention but something a bit more ominous.

  The envelope sticking out from beneath the file box at the bottom of the cabinet had a capitol V scribbled on the front as clear as day.

  Veronica’s heart sped up as she bent down and pulled it from its hiding place. Her blood ran cold when she saw her name written across the front of the envelope.

  For a second, she couldn’t move.

  This was what Parker had been hired to deliver to Veronica on the night she was killed. So why in the hell was it tucked away in Quinn’s closet? It wasn’t in a plastic bag indicating it was a formal piece of evidence. Apparently, it had never been turned in. If it had, Veronica would have heard from the FBI and been called in for questioning. So why was Quinn hoarding this at the bottom of his closet? Was he protecting her like Arc had protected her in erasing Veronica’s phone number from Parker’s records?

  But even if Quinn was protecting her, it still didn’t make any sense. None of this made any sense.

  Her wits came back full force when she heard the water shut off in the bathroom. She jumped up, envelope in hand, and shut the wardrobe doors quietly. Nearly panicked, she turned around and snatched Quinn’s tee shirt off the floor. She slipped it on quickly and grabbed his wallet off the nightstand to ‘borrow’ some money for a cab, but she saw something more enticing in the form of his car keys lying next to his wallet, so she took those instead.

  With her adrenaline pumping, Veronica took the ledger from the desk, shoving the envelope inside and slipped out the door. She raced down the stairs, pushing the unlock button on the key FOB. She heard Quinn’s car beep as it unlocked two rows across the lot. If her brain wasn’t like a plate of scrambled eggs she might have laughed at the fact Quinn locked a car that had no back windshield. She was in no position to really appreciate the irony in things at the moment.

  She ran to the sound, pleased to see his rental was a black Dodge Charger. She glanced around quickly before she opened the door and got inside. With excitement and fear rushing through her blood, Veronica revved the engine to life and swiftly made her getaway.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Home wasn’t an option that was for sure. She confirmed this theory as she finished her large black coffee sitting a block back from her apartment. She hadn’t gotten out for the beverage, of course, she was still only wearing Quinn’s tee shirt with nothing underneath. And she was getting tired of smelling his cologne on her flesh. The reminder of her mistake was starting to suffocate her in the small cabin of the Charger. She needed to wash away the memories and regret that were already starting to weight her down.

  But she wouldn’t be doing that inside the comfort of her apartment. Not with the two gentleman casing out her place for the last hour. They were subtle, but Veronica knew what she was looking for and she had spotted them almost immediately. She let out a sigh and cranked the car, turning around in the street and heading in the opposite direction.

  It wasn’t like she hadn’t considered this as a possible outcome. She had been in situations before that had taught her to make arra
ngements to prevent those types of predicaments in the future. This line of work had certainly made her wiser if nothing else.

  Arc made you this wise, Veronica.

  She promptly told that inner voice to shut the hell up and not think about her old boss. He was in the past, right?

  Wrong. He saved you last night, not Quinn.

  Veronica went back and forth with her disparaging thoughts until she was on the outskirts of town. She was just about fed up with her irritating inner voice when she parked in front of a small, secluded block of storage units. She made sure the coast was clear before getting out and retrieving the key for her lock hidden above the rolling door on a ledge. There were hundreds of storage units in the area and some were even climate controlled, but Veronica didn’t need for her things to be pampered; she needed them to be available and inconspicuous. This unit and several others in various places around the state offered her just what she needed. She rushed herself because she didn’t know if Quinn’s car had some sort of GPS system he could access. She certainly didn’t want him to know what she was up to.

  Veronica grabbed the only thing stored inside the unit: a small suitcase. She opened it long enough to push aside the cash and other items piled on top and find a pair of jeans. She slipped them on, zipped the bag back up and headed out. She drove to a nearby IHOP and ditched Quinn’s car. The smell the food from outside the building was so appetizing she considered stopping to order something. She decided against it, though, opting to head down the road to the Enterprise Company instead. Once she rented a Kia, paying in cash and using an alias (she had packed several false ID cards in her handy suitcase), she was on her way. And for the first time since she spun out of the parking lot of Quinn’s hotel, Veronica felt like she could breath. She relaxed against the seat and exhaled, thinking ahead to her next move, but her thoughts lingered on food and food alone.

  Damn, she thought. She usually wasn’t one to let her stomach dictate her actions, but at this point she couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten. So food was a high priority at the moment. She made sure to hit a drive thru far away from wherever she was going to rent a hotel room in case she got picked up on street cams, or any other cam for that matter.

  Veronica paid for two nights in cash at a Holiday Inn. The place had been renovated, but she could still smell the cigarette smoke as she walked down the hall to her room. She checked her surroundings carefully and then slipped inside, bolting the door. She even went as far as propping a chair under the door handle. She stood there staring at it for a moment wondering why even those extreme precautions didn’t seem like enough. She knew the answer to that curiosity, though. She now had in her possession one of the most powerful pieces of evidence she’d ever absconded. Something hundreds of people wouldn’t hesitate to kill her for. As that thought crossed her mind, she almost laughed at her pathetic attempt to seal the door. Suddenly it didn’t seem extreme enough.

  It would have to do for now, she decided. She had to get to work. The first thing she did was hit the shower, washing all the evidence of her sinful mistakes and feeling much better afterward. She dressed in fresh clothes (as fresh as they could be having been stored in a suitcase for months). It didn’t matter. Anything was better than feeling Quinn crawling all over her skin.

  Once she was shed of her guilt and reminders, Veronica settled in at the desk, eating her Subway sandwich (secretly wishing it was a T-bone steak) and getting busy on the evidence she had obtained. There was a lot of work to be done and she felt like she had very little time to do it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  As the evening hours crept upon her, Veronica decided to take a short break. She had the television going in the background and her ears perked when she heard the news reporter announce something about a gas explosion at a historic hotel. She was walking out of the bathroom and grabbed the remote, turning the volume up louder. She perched herself on the edge of the bed and listened.

  “A gas explosion under the ground floor of a historic downtown hotel has city officials reeling as to find a cause. Fortunately, the explosion occurred under the kitchen area which was closed at the time, allowing only a few employees to suffer from mild injuries. Jordan Cranor has the latest.”

  The feed changed from the young female anchor to a man in a suit standing in front of the very hotel Veronica had entered not so long ago.

  “Thank you, Leslie. I’m here with a few of city officials and the local fire department, but there isn’t much to be said about the events. While the cause of the explosion remains under investigation, locals are devastated with the rumor that the hotel may be deemed condemned after this event and therefore unable to reopen due to infrastructure failure.”

  Veronica suffered through a segment of high-class individuals whining about what the building meant to them before the camera returned to Jordan. “Locals who are heavily involved with the hotel and its historic importance to the city are reaching out to state leaders for help in recovery efforts. One of which is Senator Dwight Ross.”

  Veronica’s spine went straight and the remote sagged to her side in disbelief. There on the screen, standing next to Jordan on the sidewalk was her number one suspect. He was dressed to impress and looked very official as Jordan put the microphone under Ross’s lying lips.

  “Thank you and good evening! It’s a tragedy indeed, Jordan. This hotel is one of the most incredible establishments in this fine town. I’ve spent many nights here myself.”

  “I bet you have,” Veronica muttered under her breath as her eyes narrowed with disgust.

  “Is there anything you can do to help restore this great hotel to its former glory?” Jordan questioned.

  “Well, we’re going to fight for it, Jordan. Demolishing such a treasure to the city would be devastating indeed.”

  After that Veronica tried not to vomit her Subway sandwich as she watched the senator and the reporter kissing each other’s and the public’s asses for two more minutes. She was about to turn the television off when the anchor returned the screen with a smile.

  “Senator Ross states that he will address the issue more in depth and possible solutions at the St. Jude Gala charity this coming Saturday.”

  Veronica’s heart leapt as she turned the power off and sat on the edge of the bed in thought for several minutes. Of course Ross would have a vested interest in the hotel. It was up to him and other bigwigs around town to keep that hotel and its dirty basement secrets from going under or being exposed. Not only did they have a human trafficking/prostitution business on the line, they had lots of reputations to keep in check. She glanced over at the book on her desk and knew she was going to have to keep it safe somewhere. If Ross was on TV talking up restorations already, there was no doubt that every slug and slimy son of a bitch on the street was looking for that ledger right now.

  Veronica picked up one of her cell phones lying on the desk and dialed Merritt’s number.

  “Veronica, where the hell are you?” he answered.

  “Why do you care?” she wondered nonchalantly.

  “I’ve been by your place and you were gone. There were also—“ He paused for a second as if he had to move away from listening ears. “There were also some shady looking people casing your joint.” His tone was barely above a whisper when he finished his sentence.

  “Noticed them, did you?” She was impressed. “It doesn’t matter,” she assured. “I need a favor.”

  “Of course you do,” he scoffed.

  “Seriously, Merritt,” she insisted and heard him sigh heavily on the other end of the line.

  “What?”

  “I need a media pass.”

  Silence.

  “You there?”

  “How the hell am I supposed to get one of those?” he demanded.

  Veronica grinned. Not because she thought he was funny, but because he seemed to be getting bolder around her and she was greatly amused by it. “I know someone.”

  “Of course you do,” he re
peated.

  Veronica actually laughed out loud this time. “Will you help me or not?” she inquired.

  “You know I’m too afraid not to.”

  She laughed again. “Good. His name is Coco. You can find him on Lafayette. It’s the pawnshop on the corner.”

  More silence.

  “Hello?” she asked with a hint of irritation.

  “Are you making this stuff up?” Merritt demanded seriously.

  Veronica laughed once more. “Nope. I don’t have that good of an imagination, Merritt.”

  “What do I do?” he wondered after another heavy sigh.

  “He knows me. He already has my picture on file, so it shouldn’t take him but five minutes to cook something up. Tell him to use the blonde picture.”

  “Then what?”

  “Pay the man and I’ll call you with a drop off location.”

  “This all sounds highly illegal,” he countered.

  “I’m suspended,” she reminded him.

  “I’m not,” he shot back. “Yet, anyway.”

  “Touché,” she agreed. “I appreciate you.”

  Another stint of silence before he spoke at last in a strained voice. “That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “Don’t get used to it. Once I’m back on duty I’ll hate you again.” This time she heard him laugh and her mood lightened a little. “Seriously, though. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Jessica Rabbit!” Veronica said excitedly without warning. She was so relieved to finally remember the name of the movie character Ginger looked like that she flopped back on her bed spread eagle and stifled a giggle.

  “Say again?” Merritt said on the other end of the phone.

  Veronica sat back up and sighed. If Merritt didn’t think she was crazy by now, he never would. “Nothing,” she dismissed. “I need that pass by Saturday.”